Imatges de pàgina
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I have already chose my officer.
And what was he?

Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,

A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;1
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows

More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,2
Wherein the toged consuls can propose

As masterly as he mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
And I,-of whom his eyes had seen the proof,
At Rhodes, at Cyprus; and on other grounds
Christian and heathen,-must be be-lee'd and calm'd
By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster :4
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,

And I, (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's an

cient.

Rod. By heaven I rather would have been his hangman.

Iago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of service;

Preferment goes by letter, and affection,

Not by the old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, Whether I in any just term am affin❜d5

To love the Moor.

Rod.

I would not follow him then:

Iago. O, sir, content you;

I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark

(1) For wife some read life, supposing it to allude to the denunciation in the Gospel, wo unto you when all men shall speak well of you.

(2) Theory. (3) Rulers of the state.

(4) It was anciently the practice to reckon up sums with counters.

(5) Related.

Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but provender; and, when he's old,
cashier'd;

Whip me such honest knaves: Others there are,
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd
their coats,

Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;

And such a one do I profess myself.
For, sir,

It is as sure as you are Roderigo,

Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe,2
If he can carry't thus!

Iago.
Call up her father,
Rouse him make after him, poison his delight,
Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,
And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,
As it may lose some colour.

Rod. Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud. lago. Do; with like timorous accent, and dire yell,

As when, by night and negligence, the fire

(1) Outward show of civility. (2) Own, possess.

Is spied in populous cities.

Rod. What, ho! Brabantio! signior Braoantio,

ho!

Jago. Awake! what, ho! Brabantio! thieves thieves thieves!

Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags. Thieves! thieves!

Brabantio, above, at a window.

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons?

What is the matter there?

Rod. Signior, is all your family within?

Iago. Are your doors lock'd?"

Bra.

Why? wherefore ask you this?

Iago. Zounds, sir, you are robb'd; for shame, put on your gown:

Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
Even now, very now, an old black ram

Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise;
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
Or else the devil will make a grandsire of yo
Arise, I say.

Bra. What, have you lost your wits?
Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my
voice?

Bra. Not 1; What are you?

The worse welcome:

Rod. My name is-Roderigo. Bra. I have charg'd thee, not to haunt about my doors: In honest plainness thou hast heard me say, My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness, Being full of supper, and distempering2 draughts, Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come

To start my quiet.

Rod. Sir, sir, sir, sir,

Bra.

But thou must needs be sure,

My spirit, and my place, have in them power

(1) i. e. Is broken.

(2) Intoxicating.

To make this bitter to thee.

Rod.

Patience, good sir.

Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is

Venice;

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In simple and pure soul

Most grave Brabantio, come to you.

Iago. Zounds, sir, you are one of those, that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we

come to do you service, you think we are ruffians : You'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you: you'll have coursers for cousins, and gennets for germans.2

Bra. What profane wretch art thou?

lago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell you, your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

Bra. Thou art a villain.

Jago.

You are a senator.

E. This thou shalt answer: I

Roderigo.

know thee,

Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But I beseech you,

If't be your pleasure, and most wise consent
(As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter,
At this odd-even3 and dull watch o'the night,
Transported-with no worse nor better guard,
But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,4
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,-
If this be known to you, and your allowance,5
We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;
But, if you know not this, my manners tell me,
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe,
That, from the sense of all civility,

I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:

(1) A lone farm-house.

(3) Midnight.

(5) Approbation.

(2) Relations.

(4) A waterman.

Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,-
I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
Tying her duty, beauty, wit, and fortunes,
In an extravagant! and wheeling stranger,
Of here and every where: Straight satisfy yourself:
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you.

Bra.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
Give me a taper; call up all my people :-
This accident is not unlike my dream,
Belief of it oppresses me already
Light, I say! light!

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Exit from above.
Iago.
Farewell; for I must leave you:
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
To be produc'd (as, if I stay, I shall,)

Against the Moor: For, I do know, the state,-
However this may gall him with some check,-
Cannot with safety cast2 him; for he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars,
(Which even now stand in act,) that, for their souls,
Another of his fathom they have not,

To lead their business: in which regard,
Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains,
Yet, for necessity of present life,

I must show out a flag and sign of love,
Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely
find him,

Lead to the Sagittary the rais'd search;

And there will I be with him. So, farewell. [Ex.
Enter below, Brabantio, and Servants with torches.
Bra. It is too true an evil: gone she is ;
And what's to come of my despised time,3
Is nought but bitterness.-Now, Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her?-O, unhappy girl!-
With the Moor, say'st thou ?-Who would be a
father?-

(1) Wandering. (2) Dismiss. (3) Old age.

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